


without you (the flowers bloom)

by Macremae



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Ryan goes to buy flowers from Enoch for the anniversary of Ak's trial (brought to you by ohnoitsadalek)</p>
            </blockquote>





	without you (the flowers bloom)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Kit and I had an idea where Rach would give us a prompt, and Kit would have to write disgustingly sweet comedic fluff while I would write soul-crushing angst. Kit, your move.

It’s everything Enoch can do not to give themselves a mild concussion. 

Everyone on EOS 10 (hell, everyone in the universe, but their senses don’t reach that far) is on edge. A heavy, choking blanket of tension has settled over the station, and the cacophony of feelings is deafening. Enoch had sprinted to the greenhouse as fast as they could to escape the bombardment of emotions, but they still feel a sense of foreign anxiety, even in their leafy sanctuary.

They shake their head again, and go back to pruning the canterberry patch.

The day seems to drag on without end, and by sixteen hundred hours Enoch is about to snap. And then they feel it.

A huge, coursing tidal wave of shock and fear and fury and grief rushes towards them, crashing like a wrecking ball into their mind. Enoch drops to their knees, clutching their head and struggling to breathe as they’re bombarded with wave after wave of terror and pain. Their blood turns to ice, and a cold slimy feeling worms it’s way into their stomach. And without a shadow of a doubt, they know.

Akmazian lost.

\--

The next few months are absolute agony.

Enoch constantly has a crushing headache from the storm of negativity swirling around them, squeezing their senses in its icy grip. They stay as far away from the infirmary as possible, and end up spending most nights in the cradle of a tree. 

The execution day begins as bad as the sentencing one, but Enoch is able to tell the moment Dr. Dalias steps back into the station. They sit, shivering and sobbing and gasping, in a patch of wildflowers that seem to curl protectively around them. The heavy curtain of pure, unadulterated pain hangs over them like a lead weight, sapping every ounce of energy and breath from their body.

The plants, unaffected but sensing something is wrong, cover them as they ride out the grief. Time passes in a blur until someone, Levi, they realize later, sits next to them quietly and gently holds their hand, providing unexpected solid ground.

There may be hope for him yet.

\--

 _No one is ever really okay_ , Enoch thinks one day, _we just get better at pretending_. 

Dr. Dalias is a terrible actor, but then again, so are they.

A day passes without them going catatonic, then two, then a week. Never a month, but there are the little miracles. 

Levi stops by more often. If Enoch were the kind of person that enjoyed kidding themselves they might even think he cared about them. 

Still, Enoch shows him how to properly care for his small army of dangerous flora, and he makes sure they remember to take care of themselves. It’s a win-win, they suppose. And actually having energy makes working and dealing with secondhand grief much easier.

 

They never actually talk to Dr. Dalias about the situation, which is fine. What would they even say, anyway? “Hey, sorry about your dead boyfriend, but could you tone down the sadness? It is really annoying.” Yeah, right.

\--

There’s an old Earth song that talks about the different ways to measure a year. Enoch measures their years in feelings. The past one can be defined as a lot of things but most simply: sad.

Enoch doesn’t even have any love to measure with anyway.

\--

The anniversary of the trial rolls around, and it’s hell all over again. A thick quiet hangs over the greenhouse, tentative and waiting. Enoch knows human rituals. They know what Dr. Dalias will do.

At around twenty hundred hours, the hollow feeling in Enoch’s gut turns painful as they hear the greenhouse door open.

“Hello?” a voice calls out, “Dr. Clarke?”

Enoch takes a deep breath, dusts off their overalls, and picks their way over to where Dr. Dalias is standing.

“Evening, Dr. Dalias. Something I can help you with?” they ask.

He looks nervous, but tired. Extraordinarily so, and uniquely, too, like a combination of little sleep and a heavy heart.

“Yeah,” he replies a weight evident in his voice, “do you have Cempazuchitl and Rooster’s Crest?”

They nod, grab a basket and walk back into the garden, stopping at two particularly “sunny” patches to pick the requested flowers.

“Sorry for coming so late, I would have asked Ms. Clairborne but she was closed by the time I got off work. How much do I owe you?” he asks when they return.

“Help me weed collairas, and all debts are paid,” Enoch answers, walking over to a small carpet of peach-colored blossoms and kneeling at the edge.

Dr. Dalias looks surprised, but puts down the basket and joins them. He’s not half bad, grabbing the weeds in just the right place to pull their roots up with them.

“You garden before?” Enoch says, raising their eyebrows in interest.

“Mmhmm,” he replies, not taking his eyes off the flowers, “My old house growing up had a rooftop garden.”

“Small yard?”

“None, actually.”

They weed in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Dr. Dalias keeps glancing over at Enoch, as if expecting them to say something but they stay focused on their work.

When the patch of collairas is finally clear, Enoch stands up and stretches. “Thank you,” they say, helping Dr. Dalias up.

“Glad I could help,” he says, giving them a sort of half smile that almost reaches his eyes. “And, um, thanks.”

Enoch cocks their head, confused. “For what?”

“For not… y’know,” Dr. Dalias stares at the ground, quiet for a moment before finishing, “making a big deal out of it.”

“The anniversary?” They shrug. “Did not think you would want me to.”

“I-I didn’t. Thanks.”

The sadness returns, stronger this times as he looks over at the basket of flowers. Enoch feels a tightness in their chest, and an unshakable tension in their shoulders.

A small voice, faint but clear pipes up in their mind. _Enoch_ , it says, _we have a gift. You asked me what the secret of life was, and I will tell you it: people change people. It is our job to try and make the changes we cause positive ones. Use your gift to do that_.

They sigh at the memory, and ask Dr. Dalias, “You… are you alright? I, er, understand that-”

“No.’

Enoch blinks, taken aback by his response. “I am sorry?”

“No,” he repeats, gaze hardening with his voice, “I’m sorry, but you don’t understand.”

“But you see, Dr. Dalias, I-” they try to explain, but Enoch already senses a cache of pent-up anger bubbling to the surface.

“You don’t ‘see’ anything. The entire damn day everyone’s been telling me that they get it, that they understand what I’m going through, but they don’t! They didn’t know him, didn’t love him, like I did! It didn’t hurt them like it hurt me! And you! Hell, I don’t think you even met Akmazian, much less cared about him, so don’t fucking tell me you understand!”

Dr. Dalias continues, but his words are drowned out as Enoch desperately tries to organize their mind. All of the repressed anger and grief and pain is nearly bowling them over, and their mind is filled with it, swimming in it, completely encompassed by it. It’s too much, and they’re trying to push it away, but the fresh sadness it digs up from the very back of their mind, sadness from long, long ago, rushes in and fills every corner of their being, until they feel like they’re about to burst with pain, and they just want it to-

“STOP!”

Dr. Dalias freezes, staring at Enoch as they clutch at their head and gasp, rivers raging down cheeks.

“Just- stop! I don’t- I can’t- !” They struggle to find the words, but everything just hurts so much, and their vision has gone blurry. Their breaths come quicker and quicker, lungs screaming for air until they feel their knees buckle, and they’re falling, falling until-

Two arms reach out and grab them, shaking but holding them steady. They slowly lower Enoch to the soft earth, and then switch to keeping them upright and gently rubbing small circles on their back. Enoch sobs, huge shuddering gasp, and feels tears that are not their own fall onto their back.

They both sit there for several long minutes, clawing their way to the surface of the ocean inside of them. After a while, Enoch manages, “I understand what you’re feeling because I can feel it too.”

The hand on their back freezes. “What?” Dr. Dalias asks in a tight voice.

“My species,” they continue, “it is newly discovered, so you may not know this, but we are what you would call ‘empaths’. We feel the emotions of those around us, along with our own.”

Dr. Dalias stiffens. “I- this entire time…”

“I have felt exactly what you did, yes. It was very strong. You… are lucky to have such good friends to help you through his. 

“Oh my God…” he says in horror, “you felt- I- I’m so sorry, oh my God.”

Enoch turns to give him a half smile. “It certainly was not easy. Or, is, I suppose.”

“Is? Wait- shit, of course you- oh God.”

They allow him to panic for a few seconds before putting a hand on his shoulder, “It is alright. You did not know, and it would not have mattered if you you did.” They pause for a moment, choosing carefully what to say next. “I am going to tell you something. It is important, so please listen.”

Dr. Dalias still seems shocked but nods. 

“We all learn, though some younger than others, that life does not care. It, as you say, gives no fucks about we feel; it simply is and continues to be. Someone you love died. That is a fact. The universe does not care. That is also a fact. You have people close to you that do care. That is another fact, and one that you are very lucky to have be true for you. No one, not even the happiest person alive, is truly okay. We all just get better at pretending. Bad things happen. Life goes on. Do not forget to live it. Sometimes, you must learn to live without happiness for a while. It will return, not fully and dramatically, but it will. Until then, there will be emptiness and pain, and the inability to change those two, and that is that. Grief never goes away, it simply becomes easier to live with. So is life without joy. Sometimes you will hurt more than other times, and that is okay. The reason our species are alive today is because they both learned to change with the world. Now, you must do the same.”

Dr. Dalias stares at them for a long moment, eyes still wet and shining. “Did you-?”

“Yes,” Enoch finishes. “They were my… how do you say it… ah, yes, sibling. I was young.”

“Oh.’

“It will get easier, Dr. Dalias. It will. Until then, please know that there is someone who carries your burden with you.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that,” he says. Enoch shakes their head.

“The fault is with neither of us.”

Dr. Dalias takes a deep breath, stands up, and walks away with his basket. He stops and the door and looks at Enoch one last time.

“If you are quiet,” they say kindly, “and listen, truly listen, you can hear them. The ones we love never really leave us. They care about us too much to do that.”

He gives them a small smile and nods. “Thank you.”

A few moments after he’s gone, Enoch sighs, closes their eyes and drinks in the silence of the garden. 

_I am proud of you_ , the voice says. _You have grown up so much, Enoch; I wish I could be there to see it_.

“You are,” they reply softly, “you always are.”


End file.
